pound foolish
by Maggie the Cat
Summary: there are no small parts, only small criminals.


**pound foolish**

* * *

"You know, it was only a matter of time."

Robin blinked and kept his voice as neutral as is possible when one is hanging tied-up upside-down. "A matter of time before what?"

The worst part about Nightwing was that his voice nearly never showed strain. In fact, when he was upside-down he almost seemed to get more cheerful; there should be a graph, Tim thought deliriously. Of upside-downness to cheerfulness ratio, or something.

"Before somebody started fashioning themself after a Stephen King villain," Dick continued. "I was kind of hoping for Dolores or Carrie, though."

"Can't say I like Pennywise very much myself." Robin wriggled enough to flick the tiny serrated finger-blade from his left glove and took a few deep breaths, deflating his lungs with each exhalation; he heard Nightwing grunt slightly and maybe it was cheap to find that so gratifying but hey, he could be cheap. Tim grinned to himself as he, too, curled his body upward and started sawing diligently at the bungee cord tied around his feet. He managed to get through one coil before his abdominal muscles began protesting in earnest, but as a point of honour he managed to sound almost conversational when he offered, "Really, I think the quintessential villain to take us on would be the legendary Man in Black."

A ripping sound came from Dick's direction and then the light thump of booted feet hitting the ground. "Johnny Cash? How d'you figure?"

Tim frowned and flipped over neatly as his own bungee cord gave way, landing soundlessly. "No, I mean Marten. He's from the Dark Tow —" He paused and raised an eyebrow at Dick, who was smirking silently as he scouted around Pennywise's sewer lair. "Ah. Just call me Robin, the Eternal Straight-Man."

"It's my fabulous way with the deadpan," Dick said. "It's tripped up more experienced folks than you, Robin." He paused near a clump of discarded clown clothing and made a disappointed noise.

"Now, see — this is just sad." Bending down, Dick poked at a pair of boots, turning one onto its side so Tim could see the dirt caking the treads of the sole. "It's full of red clay, and I think I see some thread mixed in."

"Grant Park," Tim said after a moment's thought. "And...thread? That could be a lot of places, but there's that old shirtwaist factory about half a mile from the park and I'm pretty sure the sewer comes up there..."

"Exactly," Nightwing said. "It's like he's not even _trying_!"

"Lack of pride in his work, I guess," Tim grinned. "But then, you could tell that from the bungee cord. I'm so used to being tied up with monofilaments or at least being shackled, I actually had to think about what to do to get out of them!"

The two of them started trotting westward along the sewer. "So," Tim said, "y'don't think that all this fun we're having at Pennywise's expense is gonna jinx us or anything, do you?"

"Nah. Once the Titans went up against this crazy thief who dressed up like a disco ball and called herself 'Reflectra', and I swear, the whole time Roy kept up this running comedy routine about her. The rest of us were pretty much in stitches, but we still managed to truss her up and cart her off to the authorities." Dick pulled to a halt and pointed up to a manhole. "Looks like we're at our stop."

They headed nimbly up and popped out into the street behind the Geiger Shirtwaist Factory, which had been abandoned since the Depression and stood tired and grey like a testament to those times. Robin shook his cape out as they climbed their grapple de-cel lines up the side of the building and murmured, "Okay, cool. Because sometimes for us — me and Kon and Imp, I mean — it seems like the more cocky we are, the harder we get taken down." He considered for a moment as they hopped through one of the high broken windows, swinging easily onto the catwalk that circled high above the factory floor. "Or maybe that's just Superboy."

"Yeah, I didn't have you figured for the cocky type." Nightwing pointed down among the rubbled sewing machines and tables, where Pennywise was painstakingly trying to clear away a heap of rocks. "It practically feels like we're bullying him," he said. Robin shrugged and took out a batarang.

"Oh well," he said, and snapped his wrist. Pennywise fell face-forward onto his pile of rocks without even a grunt.

"Nice form, Rob." Dick put his hands on the catwalk railing, tensing his thighs to jump over, but he stopped when he noticed that Tim wasn't moving. "Something up, kiddo?"

"Huh?" Robin shook himself. "No. No, not really. I just...I mean, it _can't_ be that easy, can it? Catching him? There's gotta be something more to it."

Dick leaned easily against the railing. "No, I don't think so. Let's face it, taking this guy down only really required one of us. And I know for a fact that either of us could've done it even if we were crippled and bleeding from both eyes."

"It just...I dunno." Tim wrinkled his nose, feeling stupid and strange. "I keep thinking there must be some catch." He stared harder at Pennywise, but he could read body language pretty well by now and knew what a person looked like when they were unconscious; Pennywise was very definitely down for the count.

"Hey," Dick said. "We did a good job. He didn't get a chance to hurt anybody or concoct any sort of nefarious plan to capture the city. And I think you know as well as I do that he's out cold down there, and all he needs is a couple of zap straps around his wrists and a trip down to the nearest holding cell." Their masks had lenses over the eyes, but Tim could tell that Dick was watching him closely to see if any of this was sinking in, and could tell that it really wasn't. Logically, he understood what Dick was saying, but he just couldn't rid himself of that sense of foreboding, of suspicion.

Dick put a hand on Tim's shoulder and squeezed. "I know what you mean. It can get that way, what with people turning out to be evil and bad guys getting the jump on us. But it's not always like that, y'know. Sometimes...things really _are_ just that easy."

The simple sincerity of that finally threw a blanket over Tim's doubts; he sighed, ran a hand across his head and smiled at Nightwing. "Did you learn that from Batman?"

Nightwing snorted and gripped the railing again. "Sure," he said just before he vaulted over. "Right after he taught me how to crochet a doily."

"I've always admired those doilies he's got in his library," Tim said innocently, and he could hear Dick laugh all the way down.

* * *


End file.
